


4 Times Zayn Was A Safe Space For His Boys

by webuiltahomefor5



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:59:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webuiltahomefor5/pseuds/webuiltahomefor5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An OT5 au drabble set in New York. Cross-posted to my <a href="http://www.switchstyles.livejournal.com/697.html">LJ</a> and <a href="http://www.webuiltahomefor5.tumblr.com/post/34956472832/4-times-zayn-was-a-safe-space-for-his-boys">tumblr</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4 Times Zayn Was A Safe Space For His Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Just a writing exercise because I haven't written anything in quite some time. ConCrit welcome, as always.

**1\. Niall**

It had been a long day.

People moved quickly across the narrow sidewalks, bumping into the pair as they hurried to their apartment. Tall people and short people dressed in every and all styles passed. The city was a beast— flashing lights like eyes and buildings like organs moved and gurgled with life. 

The subway opened its gaping mouth and let forth another swarm of people, rushing off to do Important New York Things. Whether all these Things were important, Zayn doubted, but it didn’t seem to affect the crowd. 

Sirens roared as fire trucks and police cars raced past. Niall jumped at the noise and automatically shrank back into Zayn. Zayn’s sure hands braced themselves around Niall’s hips as he reassured the blonde quietly. 

“It’s fine, baby. Almost home.” 

Niall nodded and kept walking, clutching their groceries to his chest. 

As they rounded the last corner, another crowd of people erupted from the subway. Niall froze as people knocked into his body, battering him and the bags he was holding. Zayn’s eyes widened as he recognised the signs of Niall’s rare panic attacks. 

While he could do nothing in the midst of the swarm of people, Zayn pressed himself to Niall’s back, enveloping him. 

“Breathe with me, Niall. Come on, baby. Feel me breathe.” The dark haired boy urged. He inhaled and exhaled deeply with his torso expanding against the blonde’s back, and his breath warming the back of his neck. 

When the crowd cleared, Zayn pulled the other boy to a nearby alley, their bag left on the concrete. Niall put all of his weight against the brick wall, Zayn’s leather jacket clutched in his fist. 

The dark haired boy continued his deep breathing, well aware that the rhythm would soothe the blonde. After a few minutes, Niall unclenched his hands and pushed himself off the wall into Zayn’s arms. 

The blonde pressed his face into Zayn’s exposed collarbone, breath damp. 

“Shh, babe. You’re okay. I’m here and the boys are just a block away. It’s alright, Nialler. Shh.” 

When Niall stopped shaking, Zayn tucked him into his side and whisked him back to their apartment. 

“Hey!” Louis called from the couch when they got home. “Didn’t you go to the store?” 

“Must’ve forgotten,” Zayn replied, Niall still under his arm. “I’ll go back out.” 

Zayn pulled Niall into their bedroom. “Go take a shower. I’ll be back when you get out, and we can help Harry cook, okay?” 

Niall nodded and turned to follow his instructions, but not before pressing a quick kiss and a thank you to Zayn’s lips. 

**2\. Liam**

Liam worked long hours as a bartender at night and long (unpaid) hours at an architecture firm in the daytime. He came home to his boys tired and sometimes grumpy, and usually they understood. Tonight was not a night of understanding. 

When Liam came home, there were papers in the living room (Niall’s job to clean up), dishes in the sink (Zayn’s job to do), trash overflowing from the can (Louis) and no dinner on the table (Harry). Liam’s own chores (running any errands that needed doing like picking up dry cleaning) were done, and all he wanted was dinner and their bed. 

He called out, but none of the boys answered. He checked all of the rooms in their flat before phoning Louis. It went right to voicemail, but before Liam could decide to just give up on dinner and fall straight asleep, the front door opened.

Louis, Harry, Niall, and Zayn tumbled in, tipsy and loud. 

“Babe!” Louis exclaimed, pressing a sloppy kiss to Liam’s mouth, “Glad you’re home!” 

“Where have you all been?” Liam asked, not returning the affection. 

“We went out,” Niall said from under Harry’s arm. 

“I can see that,” Liam snapped, “Why wasn’t I told?”

“Calm down, mate. We talked about this on Tuesday.” Louis slurred, frowning. 

“No, we didn’t, and I don’t appreciate being left out of things.” 

“Li—”

“Hush, Harry.” Liam said shortly. 

“‘ey, lay off him, eh?” Louis frowned. 

“Always so quick to defend him, aren’t you Louis? But never quick enough to be decent enough to include me in something you all obviously did as a group. I know I work a lot, but I do put enough work into this relationship to be fucking recognised.” 

Liam fumed and stormed off into their bedroom, leaving behind an upset Louis and a confused trio. 

Louis pulled his arm away from Harry’s waist abruptly and grabbed his keys before leaving the flat without a word. 

The silence that ensued between the remaining three was deafening. 

After a few moments of silence and stillness, Zayn said quietly, “Niall, go find Louis and calm him down. Harry, go make something for Liam to eat. I’ll go talk to him.” 

The blonde and the brunette left quickly to do their assigned tasks, and Zayn headed to the door at the end of the hall. 

He knocked, but Liam didn’t answer, so he opened the door a crack. Liam sat on the edge of their gigantic bed, facing the wall. 

Zayn walked in and sat next to Liam, not speaking.

When silence had settled, Liam spoke up. “Am I a bad boyfriend?”

“No,” Zayn replied softly.

“Then why do I feel like I’m missing everything that’s happening with you all? I missed Niall’s last gala and Lou’s last play and your last exhibition and I didn’t help Harry with that paper that I told him I would.” 

After a beat, Zayn said, “We know you’re busy.” 

“It’s not an excuse. Everyone’s getting closer and I’m not involved and I’m not supportive and I don’t blame Lou for leaving me out.” 

“He left a message on your phone at work, and he emailed you about going out for drinks yesterday. We thought you just had to work late, and Harry understood.”

“Harry?”

“He got an A on that paper you were going to help him with, and we told him we’d take him out today if he did since tomorrow’s Saturday so he doesn’t work.” 

“Oh my god, I didn’t even know he got an A. I’m so proud.” Liam said quietly. He knew how hard that class was for his curly haired boyfriend. “See? I’m missing all of these things that are happening in your lives.” 

“It’s just for another month, then your internship will be over and maybe they’ll hire you for a real job and you can quit that awful bar-tending one. Then we can have you at home again. We’re not angry.”

“You should be. I said that terrible thing to Lou, and I know that he always makes sure everyone is involved. I’m an awful boyfriend.” Liam buried his face in his hands and hunched over. 

“Go apologise.” Zayn suggested. 

Liam nodded, got to his feet, and crossed the room. 

Before he could leave, Zayn called. “And Liam? You’re a really good boyfriend.” 

Liam walked back over to him and held his face in his hands. He pressed a hard, chaste kiss to Zayn’s lips before resting his forehead on the other boy’s. 

“I love you,” Liam whispered as their breath mingled. 

“I love you too,” Zayn replied. 

Liam gave him one last kiss before getting up and leaving their bedroom. 

**3\. Louis**

Zayn’s phone rang loudly from the table in his studio. He wiped the paint from his hands onto his jeans and answered it.

“Zayn?”

“Hey, Lou.” Zayn replied, walking over to his beat up couch and sprawling out. 

“Can you do me a favour?” 

“Yeah, what do you need?”

“Can you, um, come up to school?” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“One of my kids just got beat up, and I have no idea how to comfort him.”

“Lou, you do this all the time. Your theatre kids aren’t exactly known for fitting in.”

“It’s not like that.” Louis said with a sigh. 

“Then what’s it like?”

“He got beat up because he’s Muslim.” 

“Oh,” a beat, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” 

When Zayn got out of the cab, he made his way over to Louis’s office by the theatre department. 

Louis saw Zayn through the window and let him in. Sitting in the corner of Louis’s office was a short, caramel skinned boy with a black eye. 

“Fikri? This is my friend Zayn.” Louis said, “He wants to talk to you.” 

Louis shut the door behind him as he left the two alone. 

Zayn sat across from the boy and watched as he took in Zayn’s paint splattered clothes, leather jacket, and tattoos. 

“I got this when I was about your age. It’s my grandfather’s name in Arabic.” Zayn said quietly, tracing the ink across his collarbone with long fingers. “I got in a lot of fights when I was your age, too.” 

Fikri didn’t reply. 

Zayn continued. “At first it was just because I was quiet, then when they found out I was Muslim it became about that. Got kicked out of two schools and had blacker eyes than that one you’ve got there.” 

The boy remained quiet before speaking. 

“You’re his boyfriend?” 

Zayn was surprised by the question, but didn’t miss a beat. “Yes.” 

“You’re a painter?” 

“Yes, that too.” 

“How old are you?”

“23.”

“When did it stop?” The boy didn’t need to clarify; the burning look in his eyes was enough.

“It doesn’t,” Zayn said quietly. “It never goes away, but it gets better. I made my family here with Louis, and sometime when we go out I get slurs, but never in the art gallery I work at or everyday.”

“How do you…”

“Get over it?”

“Yeah, that.”

“You just focus on something you like and surround yourself with people who love you. I became an artist and created a family over here, and it seems easier every day I’m with them. What do you love?”

“Acting,” the boy said with a small smile. 

“Then act,” Zayn said, leaning forward. “Pursue it. Show them that you are worth something.” 

The boy was quiet for a second before thanking Zayn. 

“No problem, kid. If you need to talk about it with someone, Louis always knows where to find me.” Zayn left the room and kissed Louis quickly.

“He’ll be okay,” Zayn said. “See you tonight.” 

“Thanks, love.” Louis called at Zayn’s retreating back. 

Zayn was the first one home, and Louis was next, his schedule finally clear from rehearsals.

“Home!” Louis yelled into the flat, setting his bag on a chair and hanging his coat on a decorated hook. 

“In here,” Zayn said from the kitchen. He sat in one of their old rickety chairs at their scuffed table, his fingers curled around one of the mugs Harry bought at a garage sale. 

“Did you go back to the studio after you left?” Louis asked, clanging around in the cabinets for a mug and a box of teabags. 

“Nah.” 

Louis sat down while the kettle heated. “I’m really glad you could talk to Fikri,” he said quietly. He looked down where his hands were clasped on the table. 

“I’m usually so good at talking to kids who get bullied because we all were,” he continued, “but I saw those kids punching him and yelling at him and all I could think about was that time two weeks ago when we went to that pub. They called you all those awful names, and I was so unprepared. I froze up then, and I froze up today. How can I be a good teacher or boyfriend if I can’t even defend you?”

Zayn reached out across the table and put his hand over Louis’s clasped fingers. “I don’t need you to. You can’t fight everyone who calls me a terrorist, Lou. It’s just not possible. What I need and what Fikri needs is a place where the terrible things don’t matter anymore. You do it for me at home, and I can tell you do it for the kids. You’re a great teacher and a amazing boyfriend. We wouldn’t be us without you.” 

Louis opened his hands and held Zayn’s. 

“We should do the dishes before Harry gets home from class.” Louis said, getting up and letting go of Zayn’s hand. 

When he stood up, Zayn pulled him down for a sweet kiss, and the two of them cleaned the kitchen in contented silence. 

**4\. Harry**

In their large bed, it was impossible to tell whose limbs were whose. Zayn often slept with his legs tangled with someone and his arms around someone else. 

When they had first moved in, everyone was insistent that they share a bed. They ended up pushing a few beds together to make it big enough in the end. 

Sleeping with the four boys has taught Zayn a lot about them. 

For instance, Liam must sleep on the end, Niall snores lightly, Louis kicks when he’s had tea before bed, and Harry has nightmares— violent, sinister ones. 

It was one of those nights for the curly haired boy. Zayn slept on one of the ends tonight and wrapped his arms low around Harry’s torso. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to shake in the night, nightmare or not, so when Zayn woke up at three to a vibrating boy in his arms, he went back to sleep. What was uncommon, however, was waking up to a sobbing boy. 

Harry’s cheeks were soaked as he ripped himself from Zayn’s arms. Half of his hair had matted to the side of his head, and his curls were damp from tears. Trying not to wake the others, Zayn pulled Harry from the bed and into the living room, wrapping him up in a blanket. 

Unlike when any of the others got bad dreams, Harry didn’t ever want to talk about them. What Harry needed, Zayn knew, was a glass of water and a warm pair of arms, so he set about getting those in that order. 

When Harry had downed the entire glass, Zayn pulled him back into his chest against one of the arms of the couch. The curly haired boy’s legs hung off the end of the couch, so he curled them in until his entire body was contained within Zayn’s. 

Zayn ran his fingers through soft curls until Harry fell asleep on his chest.


End file.
